Awaiting Trial
by m-is-for-MollyMansfieldMealing
Summary: Awaiting trial, Connie finds herself in a cold cell as she contemplates her fate. But can the prison warden offer her a small piece of much needed sympathy in her hour of need? Or will she break down like so many other times before? (Bad summary but I had no clue what to put xD)


**Just a little idea I got earlier- I was originally going to write a rather sad Prison!Connie but decided against it in the end xD **

**Reviews would be very lovely if you have the time, and I hope you all enjoy! -Sophie x**

* * *

Connie opened her eyes and shifted uncomfortably where she had tried to fall asleep. It had been 48 hours since she was arrested in the ED, in full view of her colleagues, over the death of her beloved friend. She had no idea what time it was; there was no window in her cell, and only the pale glow of the warden's light in the corridoor lit up the room.

Her neck ached; a dull throbbing that was matched within her skull, a result of all the thoughts that had been racing through her mind before she managed to get some rest. She rubbed at her temples gently, shivering against the cold and pulling her knees closer to her chest. Her cell consisted of a bed (she'd sat on rocks softer), a toilet (which couldn't have smelt worse if it had tried), a blanket (that was less than useless) and a pair of blue over slippers (she was repulsed just looking at them).

Under her blue cover and crumpled blouse, the clinical lead shook; a mixture of the cold and the uncertainty that seemed to blanket her more than the material did, just in fear rather than warmth. She let her head fall back against the freezing stone wall, and sighed as her mind wandered to her beloved department.

How were they all going to cope with no clinical lead? Zoe would probably step in but they'd all witnessed the state the ED had fallen into with her at the wheel. What would they do with Alfred? He had no-one left to organise his funeral; he was no longer under the care of the home, so where would he go? Would they have the funeral without her? No, no they couldn't- she'd protest, she'd bargain, anything; she had to say goodbye for the last time. They couldn't keep her in that dark, dank cell forever once they finally come to the conclusion that she's innocent- they'd have to let her go.

She had to be found innocent- didn't she?

Her questioning had gone badly. She'd been charged with assisting a suicide and locked up until her trial the following day. Or that day- she still had no clue what time it was. Gingerly stretching her legs out in front of her, Connie groaned and sat up, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears. It was a good job there was no mirror in with her, otherwise the woman would have probably had a heart attack at the state she was in.

But she didn't need one. Connie knew she was a mess, both on the surface and below. Since being manhandled out of her workplace, she'd been fighting back the tears, and she knew soon enough there would be too many to withhold.

"Excuse me?" Her voice was croaky and hoarse; she had refused the lukewarm water offered to her and turned her nose up at the grey slop offered as her evening meal. The tray lay abandoned on the other end of the bed, food cold and water still. The warden on duty simply stayed where he was, looking the other way. Connie frowned.

"Excuse me?!" She called a little louder, but still she was ignored.

"Mr Warden, I'm trying to talk to you!"

Connie saw him sigh and stand, slowly as if it was a chore. He made his way to her barred doorway and crossed his arms.

"What." He said gruffly, looking her up and down. He was a large man, around 6ft2 and very well built. His muscles protruded from under his shirt and he held a sleek black baton in his right hand, which he tapped against her door, as if he was warning her. Connie ignored it.

"Finally." She muttered, "What time is it?"

"I'm not allowed to confer with those charged." He said, before raising an eyebrow. "But it's 8am. Say, you don't look like a criminal. Not the sorts we usually get in 'ere anyway."

"Ever heard of "don't judge a book by its cover"?" She too crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. He looked at her blankly.

"It's a saying." The woman sighed and leant back, pushing the blanket between her and the white washed wall. "And I'm not a criminal thank you very much."

"You've got an attitude haven't you!" He exclaimed, leaning against the wall. "What you been charged for then? Theft? Prostitution?" He was being genuinely serious, but Connie let her mouth fall open in offended shock.

"How dare you- I'm not a prostitute!" She exclaimed, face forming that iconic Connie Beauchamp look of hatred. "And I'm not a thief either for that matter."

"Then what you 'ere for then?"

She sighed and looked down at her knees. "They're accusing me of assisting a friend with their suicide. Bunch of idiots, like I'd ruin my pristine career doing that." She spat the words without really realising.

"What profession you in? Waitressing?" The clinical lead rolled her eyes.

"You're a nosey one." She commented, "And just because I'm a woman with looks doesn't mean I'm a prostitute or waitress! I thought we'd gotten over sexist stereotypes like that. No, I'm a consultant at Holby ED."

The guard raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed.

"Done well for yourself then, Mrs… Hang on, remind me of your name again love."

"Beauchamp. And I'm not your "love"."

He clicked his fingers and grinned, nodding to himself.

"Ah yeah. Constance, right?"

"Everyone calls me Connie actually. I'm only Constance when it comes to legal matters."

"Connie, then. Well I'm Geoff, Geoff Peterson. Been head guard here for jus' over 2 years now."

"So they've put the head guard on to watch over me? I'm flattered." She said dryly, flexing her fingers and inspecting her nails. Geoff just laughed.

"You must be fun to work with."

"You could say that. I have gathered a lovely collection of nicknames for myself actually." She mused, pretending to be proud. ""Ice Queen", "Queen B" and so many more, though my personal favourite has to be "evil overlord". You know I'm in a bad mood when you hear that one floating around."

"You seem harmless enough to me." He laughed, muscles on his arms moving beneath his skin as he moved to itch his head. Just as he was about to open his mouth again, the pager in his pocket bleeped and he checked it quickly.

"Oh." He said in surprise, "Its half 8 already. Time for me to go home." He clapped his hands together. "With a bit of luck, the wife'll have a bacon sarnie ready for when I walk through the door."

"Well I'm perfectly fine with grey mush. Probably very tasty and nutritious, if I dared go near it. If I did, I can imagine it biting me or something."

"It's not that bad." He grinned, reaching over to his desk and picking up his security pass. "My littl'un has worse in her baby food jars. It's disgusting."

"You have children?" Connie asked, unable to mask her surprise. Geoff nodded.

"Emmeline, jus' gone 9 months now. You?"

The woman nodded, her hair falling back over her shoulders. "Grace. She's 10."

"Ah." He smiled. "She with her nanna now or…?"

"No, she's… she's with her father. In America."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that."

The clinical lead waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, it was lovely chatting to you Mr Peterson. Even if it was just for half an hour or so, and even though you_ were_ rather sexist. Hope you enjoy your sandwich and say hello to Emmeline for me." Connie smiled and Geoff nodded.

"I will, thank you. But hey, listen- I know I'm not meant to say anythin', bein' a warden an' all that, but I hope your trial goes the way you want it and you can walk free. Jus' talkin' to you now I can see you're not capable of what they're sayin' you done. You're a nice lass Mrs Connie Beauchamp. I hope we meet again someday."

"Just not in these circumstances."

"Just not in these circumstances." He confirmed, and he tipped his warden's cap at her. "See you."

"Bye Geoff."

* * *

Four days later and Connie walked away a free woman. The jury had found her not guilty of assisting Alfred's suicide, and she was able to breathe in the crisp Holby air once more. Of course, she returned straight back to work the day after she was released. Upon entering her office, she found a soft white package sat on her desk. Slowly, the woman unwrapped it to find a bacon sandwich, still warm in her hands. There was a note beside it, and she sat down and opened it. In scrawly handwriting, it read;

"Mrs Connie Beauchamp,

When I stared my shift yesterday, I was assigned to your block of cells. Unfortunately, when I got there, I had been told it was your last day in court. When I clocked off, the boss told me you'd walked away a free woman, and I couldn't have been any happier, honestly.

I knew you could do it, and here's a little celebratory sandwich- I did have one waitin' when I got home by the way! I had fried bread too, but they didn't sell that at the bakery.

Geoff S.

P.S- Emmeline says hello!"

At the bottom of the page was a multi-coloured scribble, and Connie smiled to herself. She folded the paper back up and placed it safely in her top drawer, before letting it fall shut and picking up the bacon sandwich.

"Here's to me." She muttered as she pretended to toast it, before taking a large bite and chewing appreciatively.

Life was finally good.


End file.
